


Dear Evan Hansen: A Novelization

by LonerWithHeadphones



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Canon - Musical, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Social Anxiety, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonerWithHeadphones/pseuds/LonerWithHeadphones
Summary: You all know the story of Dear Evan Hansen. This is my own personal take on the events that occurred, getting into Evans' head and why he did what he did.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that the quotation marks are so faint. Something is wrong with my computer I guess. I hope you enjoy nevertheless. :)

**Chapter One**

_Dear Evan Hansen, Today is going to be a good day and here's why. Because today..._

That much is scripted, thanks to my therapist Dr. Sherman. This was all his doing. Positive Thought Enforcement Letters, he called them. Old people like him usually use lots of unnecessary big words to make it sound official. Well no matter how official, it can't turn things around for me. All it does is frustrate me. But ever since he assigned it, he's been a stickler for checking it the next session. I've forgotten the last couple sessions (or at least that's what I told him) and he's been getting more and more disappointed. Truth is, I can't just sit down and write this kind of stuff. His disappointment stings more than most though, so I find myself trying again. I do a lot of things for other people and they usually don't end up very well for me, but with life you can't always choose.

_...is the first day of senior year._

Simple and laid back, my dream. I try this on for size, but once it's on my screen, I snort and delete it. He would never buy that. Simple and laid back is my fantasy for life, but senior year isn't either of those. I know it's going to be hard. I already took my pill this morning, but my stomach still shifts within itself. It was slow today, because the time hasn't come yet. Its not close enough. Soon. Too soon though, it'll start. Ugh. I try again.

_...I get to see Jared._

A blessing and a curse he is. Jared Kleinman, a classmate and friend. He's the equivalent of a macho cool guy with nothing to show for it. It's kind of bad when your only positive attribute is when you hang out a loser with a broken arm who only has you someone to hang out with. (Yes, my arm is broken. I broke it this past summer.) We are both harsh to each other (him externally, me internally) so I guess it works both ways, but that's a stretch. I delete that too, and that's when I hear my Mom's voice behind me. Don't ask me how she got in without me hearing.

¨So you just decided not to eat last night?¨ she asks, standing in the doorway, waving a twenty dollar bill around. She's wearing her blue nursing scrubs, and she looks more tired than I feel. I think she gives off that vibe without trying to. She has messy blonde hair and squinty eyes after all. 

¨I wasn't hungry,¨ I mumble defensively, staring forward so I look busy on my computer. She sighs. I'm going to get a talking to.

¨You're a senior in high school, Evan,” she says. ¨You need to be able to order dinner for yourself when I'm not here.¨

¨But the phone,” I respond weakly. That was my argument: three words. Out of my peripheral vision I can see her shoulders sag.

¨It's all online now. No need to talk on the phone. To anyone.¨ I stare more at my incomplete letter, shifting in my chair. My unoccupied fingers find their way to my cast, scratching up and down it rhythmically.

¨Okay, but that's not true, actually,¨ I say, my voice tightening like a muscle. ¨You have to talk to the delivery person when they come to the door and there's silence when they are counting the change so you just have stand there in the silence.¨

I glance over to see if there's approval. Shock and surprise, I do not. (Clear sarcasm is clear, I hope.) Her shoulders sag more and she furrows her brow a little. She smiles, but it's nervously. I only look up at her for a second though, and my gaze drops.

¨This is what Dr. Sherman is for,¨ she says. We both know this. But whatever is wrong with me is just me. Not some mental illness. Its what's wrong with me.

¨Talking with...well, no, engaging with people. Not running away.¨ My heart twinges, and my chest presses down against my lungs. Her kindness and soft tone only make it worse. She's a nurse, and a very busy one at that, so we aren't that close. She could compliment me and it would still taste bitter in my mouth as I thanked her. I smile though, I'm not an asshole. ¨You're right. I'm going to be a lot better.¨ Saying it like that feels more like false hope than anything, but her returned smile is nice, even if it fades a second later.

¨No, I know,¨ she says quickly. She wasn't expecting me to say that, and it shows. I almost laugh, which happens when I get nervous. ¨I know you are, sweetie. That's why I made you an appointment with Dr. Sherman this afternoon after school. I´ll pick you up for it.¨

¨I already had my appointment this week,¨ I say, which is true. His office is stressful enough once a week. He's not scary, his questions are just ones about things I don't like to talk about. Which makes me nervous. Which makes him think I should breathe, which makes me feel intimidated and scared. Which causes him to think I need more help and he asks more and more things down the line. Rinse and repeat.

¨Thought you could use something sooner,” she says softly, like I accused her of something. But her smile and excitement bursts out a second later. That's how it is, one subject to the next. She isn't the same with interests (horoscopes, mindfulness, list goes on) but everyday conversation is way different. ¨Speaking of which, have you started those letters he asked you to write? Y´know, the _Dear Evan Hansen, todays going to be a good day and here's why_ thing? Little pep talk? Have you been doing those?¨

They've definitely been talking, I can tell in her voice. She knows I haven't been. ¨I´m working on one,¨ I say. Not good enough. ¨I'll finish it at school.¨ Jackpot.

She looks at me with intense seriousness. ¨Those letters are important, honey,¨ she says. ¨They're going to help you seize the day!” She more or less screams this. I fight my instinct to cover my ears, but I flinch and jump back a little, which makes me blush bright red. Shes gonna notice you humored her, I scold myself. Great. ¨Yeah.¨ I felt weird saying anything else. Well, I would have felt weirder saying anything else. ¨We´re going to try not to have a repeat of last year where you stay at home every Friday night telling me you have no friends,¨ she tells me.¨I don't want that.¨

¨Neither do I.¨ We're finally on the same page.

¨That actually gives me an idea,¨ she says mysteriously. Something in the back of my head tells me that the way she says this is going to be more interesting than her idea. 

She steps into my room and rummages around on my desk. I look at her with big eyes, a little weirded out. I didn't want her digging around in my stuff, and while my protests stay stuck in my throat, I wish they didn't. She eventually fishes out a Sharpie, eyes sparkling as she looks at me. Is she going to murder me? That amount of eye shininess is not normal. 

¨You could go around today and ask people to sign your cast. Wouldn´t that be an amazing icebreaker?¨

Ew. I don't know about that. ¨Perfect,¨ I say unenthusiastically, which doesn't faze her. She's excited, nothing can bring her down. 

 

¨I am proud of you already,¨ she says, handing me the Sharpie, which I slip into my pocket. 

 

There really isn't a reason to be. I haven't accomplished anything yet. ¨Oh. Good,¨ I say just as flatly as before. 

 

¨I love you so much,¨ she says with cutesy swelled up pride, kissing my cheek and ruffling my hair, which sparks a mini heart attack on my part. 

 

¨Yeah, love you.¨ I am tenser than I have been in a while, eying her as if shes dangerous the entire time she gives me one last smile and exits my room, leaving me alone to begin to pack up and start this supposed good day. Hah. I´ll believe that when it happens. For all I know, I could die in the next five minutes.  

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan begins his first day of senior year and has his first real conversation with overachiever Alana Beck.

Welcome to Pine Valley High School, a place where it's crucial to know how to stand around, make conversation, and learn every single thing that they say you have to. I'm good at one out of those three. I'm sure you can guess which two I can't excel in. I'm kneeling down on the ground, noise all around me. 

My head feels fuzzy and the thoughts are whirling a bit faster than usual, but no one has looked my way hardly at all, which prevents further panic. I usually get a lot of side glances, which is what I hate. Whispering is up there on the hate list too. Both are unpredictable and make my mind rack itself for all the things they could be saying about me. Because while there is a chance they aren't talking about me, they could be. Thats scary enough for me to be worried about it, even if it isn't anything interesting.

Invisibility is my speciality. I both loathe it and idolize it. I both voluntarily am and at the same time, not included in the decision. Very confusing. Indecisive too, I guess.   
I stand and slam my locker shut, locking it securely before taking a big breath and ducking my head down, holding it just high enough so I can see where I'm going. I start on my way to my first period early, as I usually do. I have a few of my essential class things tucked under my uncasted arm, which includes a book to read until class officially starts. The bell hasn't even rung, but part of invisibility is being where no one else thinks to look. 

I walk into my first period (which is geometry) and am surprised to see Alana Bleck in her usual seat, reading at her desk. A textbook from another class, I think. But I can't be sure. It's the calmest I've seen her, she's the excitable nerd type. Or maybe it's not really a type here, she kind of does her own thing.   
I contemplate leaving and hiding in the bathroom, but I decide against it. I eye her carefully and sit down in my seat quietly, setting my things down delicately, as if they're made of glass.   
Part of what makes her so scary is that she's not half bad looking. She's one of the few black kids at my school, which I think is common in small towns. She's very short with shiny black glasses, a fashion sense made of an assortment of boring shirts and plaid skirts, and long braided hair that goes all the way down to her butt. She's mostly scary because of her energy though.

¨Oh hey, how was your summer?¨ she asks suddenly. I jump and look up. Is she talking to me? Wait, of course she is. Can't be too sure though, I might as well ask…

¨My…?” I start.

A burst of excitement. ¨Mine was productive,¨ she says happily, smiling ear to ear and slamming her book shut dramatically. She looks me right in the eye and doesn't stop. I manage to do the same...kind of. Her nose is close enough to her eyes. ¨I did three internships and ninety total hours of community service.¨ 

We have never talked, so I'm a bit confused. We might have said hello once or twice, but that's about it. Her curiosity must have been peaked. God knows why it was peaked by me. Probably just bored now that I think of it. 

¨Yeah that's...wow,¨ I compliment. There has to be a better word for that, I sound stupid. ¨Very impressive.¨ I swallow and nod, dropping my gaze and turn the right way in my seat again.

¨Even though I was so busy, I had time to make friends. Or acquaintances, more like.¨ Crap, she was still going to talk. I turn to the side, raising my eyebrows at her feet, shifting my arms to sit comfortably in my lap. She gasps theatrically and covers her mouth in shock. 

I glance up in confusion. ¨What happened to your arm?!” she exclaims. Oh. That.   
¨I broke it last summer...fell out of a tree,¨ I say, trailing off near the end. I don't think she was listening anyway.

¨Oh really?¨ she cocks an eyebrow and her eyes gleam. She seems a little too interested in this, now that I think of it. It's creepy. Scary. Scarier than a lot of things. ¨My grandma broke her hip getting into the bathtub in July.¨

Oh wow. Old people actually break their hips? That's kinda sad, now that I really know that. ¨That was the beginning of the end, as the doctors said. Because then she died.¨ She doesn´t sound exactly torn up about it. I'm a little concerned, should I reach out to her? How hard could that be? Haha. Sorry. 

¨Happy first day,¨ she concludes with a shrug and her biggest smile yet, picking up her book again and searching deeply for her page. The bell rings immediately after. What a weird start to the day. I could settle for that. Better than dying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan has a bad time at lunch.

I hate lunch, but I have to eat. It's one of the few things I can control in my life. Except for maybe writing, but that's kind of getting old nowadays. The occasional drawing is fun, I guess, but that's a digression. 

Lunch is hectic and people are crazy loud. If I thought people were loud in the morning, lunch proves they can be much worse when they want to be. I usually sit near the end of one of the more empty tables, eating in front of people is awful. I usually hang my head low as I take my bites, covering my mouth for good measure.

As I pay for my lunch and head to my usual spot, I see what I'm not expecting: Jared. He´s where I usually sit, head gawking at his computer, eyes shimmering. Any traces of lunch near him is nowhere in sight. I sigh and make my way over. Before I can even try to say anything, he looks up from what looks like a retro-style shoot em up and gets a devilish smirk on his face. That means trouble. 

¨Is it an honor to be the first person to break their arm jerking off?¨ he says, toothy smile ear to ear, showcasing his crooked jagged teeth. He's not bad looking (he looks way better than me) but I don't know if anyone would find him attractive. He has shaggy brown hair he has cut in a bowl cut with rectangular glasses and an array of nerdy superhero and video game shirts. Today he's wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with Marvel superheroes jumping out at the person looking at the shirt. 

¨I wasn't--Jared, I...I wasn't...¨ Masturbation is embarrassing to talk about in school. In anywhere. I've barely done it, I've always worried my mom would jump out of nowhere and catch me. I glance around with my new red cheeks to see if anyone heard. A girl with braces catches my gaze and I drop my focus back to Jared. Shit, she heard. 

¨Paint the picture for me,¨ he continues, ignoring me. Even if he's looking right at me, I wouldn't be surprised if he saw right through me. I tense up and I feel myself heat up one hundred degrees in one second. ¨You're in your bedroom and you have Zoe Murphy´s Instagram pulled up on your weird off-brand cell phone...¨ 

He sounds like he's reading Dr Seuss, which makes it so much worse. ¨Jared,¨ I say, my voice almost a whine. ¨I wasn't...I actually wasn't doing that.¨ Pause. He just looks at me. ¨I broke it after falling out of a tree,¨ I add, looking at my tray, which was filled with a hamburger and carrots and a small carton of milk. 

¨You're a total acorn,¨ He says with a snort, eyebrows raised with pity. 

¨Um, what?¨ I look up just a little, my stomach fearful for the answer. I was starting to get less hungry. 

¨You fell out of a tree,¨ he says as if I don't know this. ¨You're an acorn, Acorn.¨

¨I'm not an acorn,¨ I say. Now whos stating the obvious? ¨I actually broke it at Ellison Park. I worked as an apprentice park ranger there this past summer. I'm sort of a tree expert now, not to brag.¨ Brag fully intended actually. But I could tell by his face he couldn't care less. I need to hurry the story along. 

¨Anyway,¨ I segway. ¨I tried to climb this forty-foot oak tree.¨

¨And you fell.¨ He says it as a statement but it sounds like a question. 

¨Well except its a funny story though because there were a full ten minutes after I fell when I just laid there hoping someone would find me,¨ I say quickly. He has to get this, he has to. Jared is an asshole, but he loves a laugh. A little too much. That's what makes him an asshole. ¨Any second now, I told myself. Any second now they're going to come.¨

¨Did they?¨

¨No. That's, uh, that's why it's funny.¨ 

He sighs and rolls his eyes, turning back to his computer.¨Jesus Christ,¨ I hear him mutter. 

No, no, no. I couldn't have failed already. My memory flashes back to Alana, and I quickly jump on how she started a conversation. Special emphasis on the quickly. ¨Oh, but, uh, how was your summer?¨

Jared freezes and stops being glued to his screen, his finger about to start another round of his game. He gives a sideways glance that I can only assume kings give to their servants. ¨Well my bunk dominated in capture the flag at sports camp thanks to me and this Israeli girl from another cabin snuck in and I got to second base with her.¨ He looks way too proud, and all I can do is meekly nod. What makes him think I want to think of him doing that with someone?

¨Does that answer your question?” he asks snottily, leaving the question hanging as he turns back to his game and clicks the start button. I see a brief countdown before the game officially begins. 

I want my spot back. I have no idea why he's sitting there, I don't feel familiar with much else, and I have no friends to save me a spot at some special table. Glancing at my tray again, however, reminds me of my appetite taking a nosedive. Jared´s camp story didn't really help. I guess it's now or never. Instead of Alana, my mom flashes into my head. 

I swallow harshly and try to gain some extra composure, taking a small breath in and releasing it steadily. He takes notice and without taking his eyes off the screen, he asks, even snottier than before, ¨You need something, Evan? I'm trying to focus.¨

My cue. Now or never. Now or never. Now, or...¨I was just wondering if maybe, I don't know, you wanna sign my cast?¨

¨Why are you asking me?” He asks, clearly distracted. Shit, that's a good question. 

¨Oh, uh...well, I just thought since we're friends--¨

¨Family friends,¨ he cuts in. ¨We are family friends. Totally different thing and you know it.¨ Right. Forgot. That's something I should have brainwashed into my head by now. We do all the friend things: go to each other's houses, sometimes he brings over a video game, sometimes he even orders pizza for us to share and afterwards he chases me around the house trying to whack me with the empty pizza box. Sometimes I even wonder why I put him with him, even though deep down I really know why 24\7. 

¨That reminds me, don't forget to tell your mom that I was nice to you or my parents won't pay for my car insurance.¨ 

My heart weighed down by the sudden pressure of guilt and shame, allows me to say no more than ¨I will¨. He has to kick me when I'm already down. 

I look at his computer screen, and he's totally lost in it all over again. No more acknowledgement. I hang my head low for the millionth time today and start walking to dump my tray, although I don't make it far. In an instant I feel something solid hit me and my tray spills, the contents going everywhere. Burger, buns, milk carton (thankfully closed) and the small pile of carrots are everywhere, and glaring at me is the one and only Connor Murphy. 

I feel myself shrink down, even more, fumbling with an apology as some people laugh and lots of people gawk and stare. My cheeks flush way more than they ever had with Jared, and I feel my mouth move to try to form an apology but nothing comes out. 

He stares at me with fists clenched and small eyes intensely locked onto me like a homing missile. He can't be any shorter than six feet tall, and he has long shoulder length wavy brown hair that looks unshowered. His clothes don't help. He's wearing a thick baggy sweatshirt with black and dark blue stripes along with tight fitting and ripped jeans.   
I can see him emotionlessly blank, as he hasn't moved, but his eyes look extra watery. Is he going to cry because of me? That's when I hear Jared again. 

¨Yo, Connor!” he crows, yelling way too loud for being so close. ¨Didn't you hear, you can't have school shooter hair here, it isn't cool!¨ 

He slowly shifts his head to Jared, showing him his weird look for an awkward amount of time. Even Jared´s expression slowly shifts into a foul disgust.   
¨It was a joke,¨ he says condescendingly. 

¨Oh yeah, I'm laughing up a storm,¨ he deadpans. This all is too much. I'm shaking and my legs feel like I could give way at any moment. I think about how I should start bringing back up shirts to school in case my original gets too sweaty because that's what's starting to happen.

Jared laughs, and he looks nervous for a second. ¨You are such a freak,¨ he says with his normal confidence, laughing again to himself. Most eyes are off of us, but some gazes still linger. Shit. 

¨What the fuck are you laughing at?¨ 

The sharpness in his voice makes me look back at him. He's staring at me again, and his emotion is clear now: rage. My stomach rumbles even more against the pressure. Against the stress. Run, Evan, run and don't look back my instincts yell. But I can't move. I dont even remember laughing. What the hell was happening? Were my nervous tics so nervous I couldn't remember them? 

¨I´m not,¨ I lie impulsively. I don't know what else to do! 

¨Stop fucking laughing at me,¨ he says, anger even more prevalent than before. His hands, I notice, are clenched even more. ¨Do you think I'm a freak?¨ He exclaims suddenly. 

¨What? N--¨

¨I'm not the freak!” He throws up his hands and he's screaming at the top of his lungs now. Eyes are back on us, and finally, a few lunch monitors on their way to clean up the mess and help me out. ¨You´re the fucking freak!¨ He finishes off, emphasising you´re instead of the fucking. Before I know it, he's advancing and his arms extending, and the next second later I'm on the ground, my unbroken arm taking most of the blow. I grunt and immediately wince a second later. 

One of the two lunch supervisors walks over and helps me up and asks me if I'm okay. ¨Yeah, yeah,¨ I say shakily, still afraid of him. He must have ran off, but I'm still on close lookout for him. The supervisor suggests I go to the nurse if I think I´m too badly hurt before going to help the other adult clean up the mess I made. 

I just stare at them as they do so, my face blank, my insides roaring. I feel everything. Leftover fear, shakiness, guilt, embarrassment, weird, doubtful. So much for a good day, I think bitterly. I spend the rest of my lunch period in the library by myself and my newly saddened thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan writes his letter for Dr Sherman and accidentally makes Connor mad again.

I pitstop at the computer lab before go out to the front of the school to wait for my mom to pick me up. It's the end of the day, and since I have Dr Sherman, I'm going to have to bullcrap a letter out. I´m in a pretty big rush, so my mind is swirling and my forehead has enough sweat on it that you would have thought that I just jogged a marathon.

I shrug my backpack off at the under a chair, slumping into and logging onto one of the many computers in there. As soon as I sit, my phone starts ringing. I sigh once again and pull it out. My mom. A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it. This can't be good. More bad news, the one thing I can´t and won´t handle. Please don't bail, please don't bail, I think repeatedly.

When the first thing I hear is her releasing a big held in breath I know I'm in for just what I predicted. ¨Hey honey, I know I was supposed to pick you up for your appointment, but both Erica and Samuel called in with the flu and I'm the only other nurse aid on staff so I had to fill in her shift...¨ she sucks in a big breath and releases it heavily like she did when I first answered.

The ultimate anticlimax. I lick my lips and press them tightly together. ¨It's fine,¨ I say simply. Biggest understatement of the century. ¨ They announced budget cuts this morning and acting as a team player might, y´know, keep me in here.¨ I wish she didn't explain. I feel guilty for feeling guilty, which only welcomes the feeling to grow.

¨It's fine,¨ I repeat softer. ¨I´ll take the bus.¨ Hopefully, I have some money in my bag. Earbuds would be helpful, but I know I left them at home. That's gonna suck.

¨Perfect, that's perfect,¨ she says. ¨I´m straight from here to class, so I won't be home. Please eat something. I left a note on the fridge and we have those Trader Joe's dumplings you love...¨

Loved. Past tense. ¨Okay,¨ I reply.

¨Did you write one of those letters yet?¨

¨Yeah, right, I´m printing it out right now.¨

She breathes in, seeming calmer now. ¨I hope it was a good day, sweetheart.¨

If only she knew what had happened. ¨It was.¨ It seems obvious but lying is just as painful as saying the truth. ¨Yeah, yeah, really great.¨

¨It's the beginning of a great year, Evan,¨ she says hopefully. ¨I think we both could use one of those.¨

I hear someone in the background call her name. ¨Heidi! We need you.¨

¨Shit, I gotta go,¨ she says in a stage whisper. ¨I love you. Bye.¨

¨Bye.¨ I'm relieved that's over. I tuck my phone in my pocket and look up to my blank Google Doc. Staring at it blankly, the answer for my frustration comes easy. I need to be honest somewhere. He has to appreciate something about that, or maybe he won´t. For once, I think uncertainty is worth it.

_Dear Evan Hansen, Turns out today isn't going to be a good day. Or a good week or even a good year. Because...why would it be? Oh, I know. Because of Zoe. All my hope is pinned on Zoe Murphy._

Zoe Murphy is Connor Murphy´s opposite (and sister). Usually, I don't hear of Connor much nowadays, I barely even see him in the halls now that I think of it. Zoe Murphy, on the other hand, appears a lot more. She's tall and slender, like a beautiful ghost. She carries herself like a confident model, and she has the looks for one too. With soft brown hair with a subtle indigo streak tucked behind her hair, kind eyes, and a determined face always on her face. Lost in thought, I guess. The point is: she's amazing, popular, and everything I wish in my heart I could be (and know better not to wait for). I decide to include this in my letter.

_Who I don't know and who doesn't know me. But maybe if I did, maybe if I could just talk to her then maybe...maybe nothing would change at all. I wish that everything was different. I wish I was apart of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean face it, would anyone notice if I disappeared tomorrow?_

_Sincerely, your best and dearest friend, Me_

I look at it over and over. It sounds awful. It's by far one of the most depressing things I have ever read (other than maybe Hamlet sophomore year). It's real, however, and I want that. I mean, Hamlet is made up, those are characters on a page and a stage. I am the real depressing thing. I hover the cursor over the print button and press it. I hear the printer sputter and hum, warming up. I lean back and relax for a few seconds, closing my eyes and letting myself feel a wave of nothingness wash over me. I feel cleaned. Things are as bad as they can be, I am officially numb.

¨So,¨ a voice says out of nowhere. I jump about five feet in the air and I think I feel a scream come out, but I don't know if I imagined that or not. ¨How'd you break your arm?¨

I turn in my seat, and its Connor Murphy, leaning against the parallel table of computers. I jump out of my seat and fall against my table like Connor is standing.

¨Oh, well...I fell out of a tree.¨ I look down, unsure if he was able to hear. I know I said something, but I have no idea how it comes out. He laughs, not unkindly.

¨You fell out of a tree,¨ he repeats, shaking his head. ¨Well that's the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard. Wow.¨

I try to mimic him with shared laughter. ¨Oh I know, trust me.¨

He suddenly looks deep in thought. What could he possibly be trying to figure out? I can't keep laughing or I´ll sound stupid so I just pray my letter is done printing so I can move along.

¨No ones signed it,¨ he says after a moment. I look at it, and he follows suit.

¨Oh yeah, I know.¨

He smiles a little. ¨I´ll sign it.¨

Wait, what? No no no. Connor Murphy pushed me a few hours ago and called me a freak and now he wants to sign my cast? Are we suddenly buddies now? Something about this doesn't feel completely right.

¨No, you don't have to,¨ I assure, laughing a bit more. When he raises an eyebrow, I stop.

¨Got a Sharpie?¨ he asks, thankfully not calling more attention to what I just mistakenly did.

I sheepishly fish the marker out of my pocket and hurriedly hand it to him. He takes my cast in a firm grip, and instant pain shoots throughout my entire arm as he pulls me a little closer. He pays no mind to it and writes his name in big, sloppy letters. His handwriting looks like fourth graders´, and it takes up the whole cast. But I know better to burst Connor´s bubble, and a signature is a signature I guess. ¨Oh. Cool. Thanks,¨ I say, dropping my arm.

¨Now we can pretend we have friends,¨ he says casually, putting the cap on the Sharpie and pocketing it. I say nothing of it.

¨Good point,¨ I mutter, scurrying past him to do what I came here to do: get my letter.

¨Oh wait, is this yours? I found it on the printer,¨ he says. I swirl around and he's extending my letter to me, confused look on his face. ¨Was walking past and all...I assume you´re Evan?¨

Connor has my letter? That could only end badly. I hurry to retrieve it from him. ¨Oh no, yeah, it was just some dumb assignment, uh, for class so...¨

Before I can grab it, his arm pulls closer to him, causing me to slink back. His eyes scan further down the page.

¨This...what the hell?¨ he says under his breath to himself. ¨Because there's Zoe? Is this about my sister?¨ Just what I was afraid of.

¨No, of course not!¨ He looks up at me, his eyes narrowed into slits.

¨You wrote this because you knew I would find it.¨

He lost me in ten words. ¨What?¨

¨You saw that I was the only one in the computer lab so you wrote this and printed this out so that I would find it,¨ he explains it in a voice that conveys he thinks I already know this.

¨Why would I…?¨

¨So I could read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out! And then you could tell everyone that you saw how crazy I am? Right?¨ He doesn't wait for an answer and screams it again. ¨Right?! Fuck you.¨

He speeds past me, arms behind him with my newly crumpled up letter. In and out of the computer lab in a flash, the door slamming. I desperately try to call out to him and catch him, but by the time I open the door and look about the commons area...he's gone with my letter. With my letter. This turned out even worse than I predicted.


End file.
